


you make loving fun

by Undercovermcdfan



Category: Aphmau (fandom), Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft MyStreet, Minecraft Starlight
Genre: <-- well in past, @ jess let them confess lmaooooo, Canon Compliant, Confession, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kisses, katie being more open, spoilers for season 4.5 & 5, travis being lovestruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undercovermcdfan/pseuds/Undercovermcdfan
Summary: love is a complex feeling, but when it comes to her, only poetry seems to flow. Travlyn. Starlight.





	you make loving fun

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAA. About time I write a fic based off the fake dating duo—man I’m so excited for their romantic plot line as I am about Travis’s entire set up for whatever role he might take. I had to indulge in the good feelings okay.
> 
> Please read, review/comment & leave a kudos.
> 
> Anyways, check me out on:  
> tumblr: undercovermcdfan.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @undercovermdfan

 

He isn’t much of a waxing poet, despite her reflections about him would insist otherwise.

When in comfort and thoughtful, he _always_ has the right thing to say—and she would laugh, sweetly, _genuinely_ , admitting to him with a softer tone “Sometimes it makes me almost nervous how convincing. Are you sure you don’t want to be an actor?”

He huffs a breath, batting at her and she laughs again, tipping her chair against the railing of open air balcony; the darkness sea met with the inky abyss of the sky, a bright and white moon large in the sky as more stars than he could even comprehend populating the atmosphere. And she, existing against this backdrop, looks like what his love for her feels.

.

.

She never lets her playfulness die down, narrowing when she teases and growing wide momentarily when she finds something of interest. How she fits comfortably against him, wiggling as she doesn’t think twice with invading his space to show him some nice photos she takes of their recent excursion or something funny she seen online. She hums in acknowledgement as he complains about long lines and she berates when he skimps on lotion when they lase. Attentive and busying, she would sometimes excuse her forwardness: _I told you I nag._ She advises and critiques, pushing but _in the right direction_ , sometimes him resulting in childishly sticking his tongue, a sign of defeat because… she is right, again.

(Which is why he savors the moments when he catches her off kilter, because though her reactions weren’t over the top, she never got away with it. Arms raising in defeat, she snorts with an affectionate eye roll and pursing her lips as she watches him cheers in the small victory.)

.

.

“You know,” she stretches, letting her chair fall forward to its proper position with a _clunk_ against the floor. Some of her hair falls forward, the temptation to tuck it back as she grins, her blue eyes watching him with delight of the words she will say next. “Us dating since high school is a rather… long time.”

He clicks his tongue, groaning immediately as he sinks down in his seat and taking a pouty sip from his fruity tropic drink. “Katelyn. _Please._ ” He feels his face flushing hot with his mumble, but he can’t even bring himself to mockingly glare. She’s taking it better now than before, coming down from the stressed plane she tends to visit—and mainly, he adds to this fact guiltily, because of him.

Now it’s a topic within her arsenal to fluster Travis, the smooth talker, into stuttering mess and jamming his system.

“ _Please what,_ love of my life?” she leans forward, “Am I testing your patience, _darling_?”

“…maybe. Makes me question if I’m really the annoying one of the couple.”

“I humbly accept the title if it means _you_ become the responsible one.”

He makes a face, after taking a thought sip. “You barely trust me with the suite key.”

“You nearly lost it twice—and locked yourself out once already.”

“And then you bought me this old so fashionable lanyard, so I _won’t_ lose it,” he hums, patting his chest—and sits up straighter, patting his pockets. She gestures to the floral-patterned lanyard on the table. He grabs it, returning to its trusty place, “I’m fully ready to be the Responsible one.”

She laughs, a small snort as she pushes back her hair.

A smile grows… warm but he frowns at the twinge of sadness to it, as her fingers lock together and she taps her thumbs, looking down in thought. “Hey Travis…” she looks up then, still smiling though he feels her guard starts to be let down. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind, Katie?”

“Well,” Katelyn says, “You.”

.

.

He admits it hurts, the barriers she sets. After every hurdle, another wall seems to erect and leaves him always with two options: to trek on or to give up.

He can sing until the sunset that his feelings weren’t superficial, but others, especially Katelyn herself, were _still_ skeptical of them.

The resident flirt, skirt chaser and dude-mancer (clever nickname, brought to him by Laurance), Travis isn’t the type one would look at and think “Oh, he’s the settling sort.”

But maybe it’s because his standards set to one bar, he never felt the will to really think about it until _she_ gives him the chance.

The irony, though, is as he scales her walls of blocks after blocks, surpassing what her friends know, then close friends, then what KC and Aphmau knows, closer and closer, she opens—she’s doing the same to him. And he doesn’t notice, until he catches her studying gaze, laying on her side as he slowly rises from their nap on the pull-out couch in their suite.

She notices.

Soon enough, it almost scares him how she quickly and accurately deciphers his fleeting expressions between masks. “You’re an open book,” she comments, sliding over and resting her head on his shoulder, after bout of loneliness overcomes him and she quickly supplies him with her own, quiet form of comfort. She pauses, her nose wrinkling in thought, “I wanted to say, ‘you’re lucky I love reading so much.’ I hate that. Irene.”

Of course, he laughs, people don’t understand how no-nonsense Katelyn, distant and cold Katelyn, could make him but in their quieter moments, he melts—but what hurts is she’s only starting to. She isn’t there yet.

Terrifying to think, as he lets his guards down quicker and quicker, he can’t blame her for not whole-heartedly trusting him with the situation he places them in… and helpless not knowing, as his love only dips deeper for her, where she lies in feelings. His guess is as good as anybody’s.

(But nobody knows the truth of their arrangement. This is a struggle he takes on alone, not even able to confide in the one person he should be able to.)

.

.

_Me?_ He thinks, trying hard to school his surprise but her expression only saddens, she must’ve notice his worry and guilt.

A pause settles in between them, she bites her lip as she ponders—her ‘ _Give me a moment, I’m trying to see if I can phrase this right’_. So, he keeps his mouth shut, both out of knowing the habit she possesses and knowing it’s quicker if he lets her speak.

And when she finally breaks the silence, she begins slowly, looking away from him. “You… are really something special.”

  _…What._

“No, really,” she glances at him, already losing steam as she… blushes, “I’m serious. Not just special, Travis, you’re something else entirely. And you know, I always think to myself ‘Well I got him figured out’, that you’re _this_ or you’re that. But…” she makes a gesture he doesn’t understand, “You always throw a curve ball, and I just don’t _get_ you, as much I want to.” She almost sounds frustrated but… there’s something else to her voice. She pushes her bangs back, letting out a dragged-out sigh, “Believe me. I want to.”

“To be a better pretend girlfriend?” He says lightly but that earns him a glare.

“No,” she chides, “to be a better _friend_. To… be… Irene, why can’t I be you? Just say the right thing in an emotional way.”

He blinks.

.

.

They have a game, over the course of their pretend dating career, to sometimes quiz each other _about_ each other.

He thought he would ace this game—but she soon proves to be some sort of _savant_ at memorizing facts and quirks of Travis Valkrum.

Not to say, he isn’t as good or even better; but he had years of an undying high school crush turn into neighbor into close friends under his belt. Maybe she’s just perceptive. Maybe, with his hopefulness shining through, she feels the same and over the years notice him like how he notices her.

(She hasn’t beat his score yet.)

.

.

“I… _what?_ ” he laughs, almost incredulously, “Katelyn… _Katie,_ I don’t… You don’t wanna be me. Maybe you’re overthinking it—I’m not that complex.”

She points her finger at him, squinting with condemning look, “No. No modesty, no lies.” She continues to assert, “You hide way too damn much. You zone out, you don’t always say what you want to say, and…. You know, I’m the first to let somebody’s business be their business. Travis, I’m being honest right now—“she leans from her seat, putting her elbow on the table, and her expression still serious, “this long since stopped being about the stuff.”

.

.

For the first time, in a long time, he sees her completely drop her guard.

While she doesn’t press her face against the window, she intensely stares at the puppy in the window—white and puffy, it tilts its head at her and she whispers, almost reverently, “Oh my Irene.”

He never seen her care for pets before; neither hate or dislike, ironically enough, she always seems indifferent to animals. _Aphmau and KC were wild enough, and they always brought in strays when they can._ She always shrugs, _Dogs, cats, parrots— they never stay for long._

So, this is a surprise.

“He’s… so small,” she whispers to him, tugging on his sleeve to get him to look closer, “I bet you he’s really soft.”

He shoots her a glance. But… seeing the look of awe, he can’t help the smile to come on. “We could go inside and see?”

“…Isn’t Dante waiting for you though?” she glances away for a moment, before her eyes return to the white pup, “We should get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Don’t want to get attached?”

She doesn’t answer.

He starts to pull her towards the door of the pet shop. Her whispered protests die the moment the shop keep lets her hold the wiggling ball of fur.

(She doesn’t take the dog home. But the way she smiles at him, her arm looping his as they walk out of the store, he wonders if he should call back later and ask about the dog—maybe the breed at least. He might’ve found his birthday present to her.)

.

.

Her eyes soften, and she scoots her chair closer, grabbing at his hand. “Travis. Tell me what we are, what you think we are.”

.

.

He wants to ask her often if there is anybody who catches her fancy. Or if she has a type.

She avoids the question smoother than she does the moon walk—though she could honestly just hyper focus on the game at hand.

(She ends up beating Laurance’s score. She never ends up answering his throwaway question.)

.

.

Travis feels his mouth dries, his heart thudding in his chest—he couldn’t just avoid her gaze, it’s too obvious but he does. Silence is uncomfortable.

“Do you want to know what _I_ think we are?”

He nods.

“We’re two people,” she starts, her chair scoots closer as she leans forward and squeezes his hand, “who come off across as selfish but it’s really them having terrible luck and always doubting themselves. Hearts in the right place at the wrong time. Jumping at the wrong chances…” he could feel the small smile in her voice, she continuing as she takes his hand and runs her thumb over his knuckles, “but unlike me, you know how to make the best of it.”

He looks up her, his face is burning. His mouth is sealed and she takes it as a sign to continue.

“We’re remarkable idiots.”

He snorts at this. And she chuckles, shaking her head.

“Maybe that’s why I like you so much,” she quietly says.

.

.

She cradles the green package in her hands, her face flushing from ear to ear. She all but shoves the present into his arms, stuffing her hands into her pocket.

It isn’t his birthday, nor a holiday that celebrates gift giving.

Frankly, he’s expecting the pizza man to be at his door, not a flustered Katelyn who shoves whatever it is in this box and now bolting across the street back to her home.

“…Thank you?” He calls out questioningly but the door is slammed from across the street, so he just shrugs.

He rips open the present, letting the letter drop to the ground—and nearly the _box_ , but luckily, he caught it in his surprise fumble.

The letter read:

_You have pretty expensive taste. Please don’t break it— but there’s a warranty to it if you do. I know this is nothing to the places you and Terry take me to._

_Thanks for being a pretty cool dude,_

_Katelyn._

(The present is a graphic tablet—the very same one he put on his wishlist and slowly saving up for on the side. He wonders when she saw it—or if she asks Dante to snoop for her. He remembers wishing he could run over to give her a kiss—he settle with a hug the next time he did.)

.

.

He opens his mouth. Then shuts it. Then stares at their hands, before looking at her face again.

“You… mean that in a…”

“Yes.”

“So you…”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Romantically?”

“And in a friend sort of a way too, but yes.”

“….no,” he says in disbelief, “you… like me… For how _long?_ ”

She grins. “I’m still trying to figure out when I started.”

He grows quiet, but as reassurance, he interlock their fingers, their knees touching as he leans forward. His heart races, she is _glowing_ in this light; a grin on her face, conveying relief but also excitement.

Oh boy. “So you like me… but…”

Her falls a little, softness stop as her breath hitches. Panic.

“You know I don’t just like you?” he asks quietly. Her eyes is wide. “Katie—nobody keeps up a lie like you being my girlfriend for over ten years just for a _like_.”

“I…”

He licks his lips nervously, cracking a sheepish smile, though in his ears his heart is now _thundering._ “Maybe a love?”

.

.

She stands at the shoreline, dusk has already came and went and it’s just the two of them right now at this particular part of the beach.

“Ah,” she says, stretching her arms out and feel the breeze—her hair is pull into a low ponytail, and with her swim suit, she looks… He flushes, looking away as if the scene he’s witnessing is private. He looks up when she turns to him, grabbing his hand as she pulls into the tide with her.

“You’re sulking way too much,” she says with a grin, “enjoy this with me. Not every day you get to go on an expensive trip like _this_.”

_Especially just the two of us… and my dad._

“Hey.” She stands in the waves, her face dropping into something touch concern, as she studies his face and she reaches up to pinch his cheek, “Travis, it’s just the two of us. No pretending, okay? So don’t feel guilty—I came to help you out, I’m completely fine with this. Now show me that doofus smile.”

He smiles a little.

“Nah—I know you can do better, Travis.” She laughs a little and he laughs as well, shaking his head.

“You’re so pushy.”

“I’m a demanding fake girlfriend as well as a bossy friend,” she pats his shoulder, “Now that we have our feet wet, you up for a night swim?”

He shrugs, “We might as well put our suits to use.”

“Exactly my thoughts.”

(She ends up winning. He doesn’t mind.)

.

.

He kissed her before—or rather, she kissed him before.

But this… is different.

Though her shoulders are tense, the kiss is light and nervous, soft and warm. She relaxes the grip on his hand, as if she expects him to pull away despite he _just_ confess his love for her. It’s cute how her eyes are squeezed shut and she didn’t take a breath or release one.

Their kisses before were always a heat in the moment type thing, like her, it’s a flash of warmth then her running off before they could do anything about what happened.

His hands slide up her arms, and he shuts his eyes, returning the kiss with a soft hum. She lets out a content sigh, relaxing her shoulders as she reaches up and wrapping her arms around.

Their kiss is fruity, like the drinks they hand, delightful and refreshing as they deepen it for a moment before pulling away.

“…Heh.”

He flushes, beaming brightly as he leans his forehead against hers. “What’s so funny?”

“Pineapples. Doesn’t taste as bad as I thought.”

“Is that so?” he chuckles, “I’m willing to give you another taste.”

“Terrible line,” she gives him a small peck, slowly closing her eyes again as she lets herself be pulled onto his lap, “But yes, please.”

He isn’t a waxing poet—because poets could go on and on how magical a kiss like this is.

Only thought that came to his mind? _Hot damn._

**Author's Note:**

> Please read, review/comment & leave a kudos.
> 
> Anyways, check me out on:  
> tumblr: undercovermcdfan.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @undercovermdfan


End file.
